


The Hardest Way Possible

by lady_ragnell



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/pseuds/lady_ragnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin's addicted to Craigslist, Arthur's looking for love in all the wrong places, and with a little help from their friends, they manage to get it together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hardest Way Possible

**Author's Note:**

> Title by the Rustic Overtones.

Merlin is about to click what he swears is his last link for the night when he sees the subject line:

 _Saw you in Ealdor - m4m (Camelot)_

And Merlin’s always been a bit of a romantic with a secret love of reading personal ads for fun (thus why he’s on Craigslist when he should have been asleep for at least an hour), but he’s never actually run across a story that he could be part of. Hell, it could be _for_ him. Ealdor is his restaurant, after all, so Merlin clicks the link with a completely stupid amount of butterflies in his stomach.

 _I came in just before close to get out of the rain. You and a friend were laughing and washing tables down, but you brought me a coffee anyway without my asking. Your friend was talking to you, but I feel like you and I had a moment when I paid. Maybe this is a bit of a long shot, but I would love to see you again. Message me if you see this?_

 _-Location: Camelot  
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests_

And the thing is, Merlin _remembers this_. It was absolutely pissing down three days ago, and he and Lance had been clearing up from a quiet night, since Merlin had finished cleaning the kitchen, when a blond in a suit came in, dripping and annoyed and completely fucking gorgeous. He’d smiled and asked if they’d mind him sitting down for a while while the rain spent itself and Merlin had told him it wasn’t a problem and made a coffee and sent Lance over with it because he can’t talk to men without falling over himself. And then went back to teasing Lance for being completely besotted with the new woman he’d … shit. Isn’t that just Merlin’s luck. He meets a gorgeous bloke in his restaurant, gorgeous bloke proves on Craigslist that he is in fact interested in men … gorgeous bloke is pining for Merlin’s straight best friend/employee.

Which means that now Merlin is left with the huge quandary of what to do. The least creepy solution would probably be to pretend he didn’t see it or recognize the situation. But then he imagines the blond bloke, maybe as much of a secret romantic as Merlin, fretting to himself that maybe he missed out on a chance at destiny and maybe missing out on other chances at destiny while pining for Lance (Merlin admits that he perhaps gets a bit maudlin in the middle of the night after a long shift in the kitchen). The kindest solution would be forwarding the link to Lance and letting him respond and gently let the bloke down. But Lance is the noblest person that he knows and it would absolutely _kill_ him to do that and he would feel guilty for weeks. So instead Merlin clicks the reply button and tries not to overthink.

 _You are going to think this is incredibly creepy,_ he writes eventually, _but I’m the friend you mentioned, of the guy at Ealdor. You were the blond with the suit and the red tie, right? And you seem really nice, which is why I’m really sorry to say that my friend is straight, got a girlfriend and everything. And I would have sent this on to him so he could respond, but then he would feel guilty forever, and I can’t be responsible for that. He’s just got this thing about eye contact, because he wants to be a businessman and he reads all these self-help books about being an effective person and--_

Merlin deletes that last sentence.

 _Anyway, mate, best of luck in future. And sorry again, both for being a creeper and for giving the bad news._

After that, he logs off for the night and goes to bed feeling inexplicably glum.

His phone wakes him in the morning instead of his alarm, blaring “Baba O’Riley” at him, which means Gwaine is calling to enthuse about his latest lay or complain about being hungover. It’s about even odds which one. Merlin gives serious thought to not answering before remembering his exhausted message to the Craigslist guy the night before, and then he _has_ to pick up, because he needs to rant at someone about it, and he can’t do it to Lance (or, by extension, Percival). “Gwaine,” he says the second he picks up the phone, “is it possible to unsend a message on Craigslist?”

Gwaine, because he’s an arse, immediately starts cracking up. “Merl, did you get drunk and try to cyber some bloke?”

“No! It’s just … this guy posted on Craigslist, a missed connection in Ealdor, and it was about Lance, and I felt sorry for the poor guy so I, you know, messaged him to tell him that Lance is straight, and I feel like a _complete arse_.”

It takes more than a full minute for Gwaine to get his laughter under control, and Merlin spends the whole time with his face flaming and buried in his pillow. “Mate, this definitely beats what I was going to talk to you about this morning,” Gwaine manages at last.

“What were you going to talk to me about?” Merlin asks hopefully, voice still a bit muffled by the pillow. If he gets Gwaine talking about whoever he shagged last night (and this sounds far more like a post-shag phone call than a post-binge phone call), maybe he’ll forget about Merlin being a complete idiot.

“Blonde bird. Lovely tits. Really annoying. Think I might switch to blokes for a bit after this, the ladies are a bit too high-maintenance for me these days. Come on, I’m more interested in your story. Who’s the guy?” Gwaine pauses and starts laughing again. “Oh, Merl, no, tell me it’s not the suit you were swooning over the other night.”

“I was not swooning!” Merlin cries, lifting his head, and then buries it again because of course Gwaine will take that as an admission, which it kind of is. “Stop laughing,” he adds after a miserable moment.

“Mate, I have got to tell Will about this.” Merlin groans. “Come _on_. You knew the second you showed weakness we would tease you till you squirm. You think it’s just so funny whenever something like this happens to us, and now it’s _you_.” He sounds far too gleeful for Merlin’s taste.

“Could I at least get a bit of sympathy? Normally Lance is my go-to guy for that, but he’d be so upset if he found out.”

Merlin flails his way out of bed and opens up his laptop. “You’re going to have to tell him eventually, you know,” says Gwaine. “He’ll be so disappointed if you don’t.”

“Not just yet, though,” says Merlin as he opens up his e-mail. “Oh, shit, he actually responded. Isn’t it the done thing to pretend that your correspondent was drunk, or to call him an arsehole and not answer?”

“Well, what does he say?” asks Gwaine.

Merlin’s heart sinks when he opens the message. _Yeah, that’s me. Guess it was too much to hope for. Thanks. “Mate.”_ “Thanks,” says Merlin. “He says thanks.”  
*  
“So,” Arthur says over breakfast, and all four people with him snap to look at him immediately. “I actually got a response on the Craigslist thing.”

All three of the women beam at him immediately, though Leon looks a bit apprehensive. “I _knew_ it was the right thing to do,” crows Morgana.

“From the man’s friend, apologizing and telling me he’s straight, with a girlfriend no less,” Arthur finishes, and all four of them visibly deflate. “I mean, he was nice enough about it, I suppose, but there isn’t really a good way to say that.”

“I’ll go get us some more coffee,” says Leon, which is his way of making sure he doesn’t have to console Arthur. Not that Arthur needs consoling.

The ladies swap looks. Morgana drops out first, predictably enough, leaving Gwen and Elena to telegraph at each other across the table. Gwen wins out at last, and turns to Arthur with a face full of sympathy. “He is just one man, Arthur. It doesn’t mean you have to give up on all of them.”

“Did I say that I was? I don’t believe I ever said that. It’s just a bit lowering, that’s all. And proof that I needn’t put something up on the internet every time I make eye contact with a man, _Morgana_.” And a reminder that if he does put things on the internet like that he needs to bloody stop thinking that it’s all going to end like some soppy film. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you lot know.”

Leon picks that moment to return with a tray of coffee for them all, and the girls all exchange looks and sigh, but stop bothering him. “Tell us about the new boyfriend,” says Elena when they’re all sipping their drinks and looking warily at each other, turning to Gwen.

Gwen turns pink. “Well, he’s not my boyfriend, for one. It’s only been two dates. And we’re planning a third. But really, he’s lovely. I think you all will love him. His name’s Lance, and he’s a perfect gentleman. He tends bar at the moment, but he wants to go into marketing …”

Morgana flaps a hand about. “Never mind that! We want to know what he looks like.” Leon looks around hopefully for someone to exchange a long-suffering look with, and Arthur indulges him, since he’s already heard at least five minutes of Gwen telling him how perfect this new bloke is and really doesn’t care to hear more.

“I can get Facebook on my phone,” Elena offers, and hands it over to Gwen, who is still blushing but looking so pleased that Arthur can’t actually bring himself to roll his eyes and start talking footie with Leon, which he would really like to do. The girls tend to forget that just because he’s gay doesn’t actually mean that he’s a girl. Well, Morgana forgets nothing, but she also delights in torturing him.

“There,” says Gwen after a few minutes, and Morgana and Elena immediately crowd close to look. “That’s him with his friend … Merlin, I think it is? He talks about him all the time, but I haven’t met him yet. He’s the one on the left.”

“Ooo, he’s quite handsome.” Elena grins at her. “I might just take him for myself.” Gwen swats her and Morgana giggles and the whole thing is getting unbearable when Elena takes her phone back and waves it at Arthur. “Here, you look too, tell Gwen how hot he is.”

Arthur takes it, preparing to say something polite and then drag Leon off to the gym and away from the girls, and stops to stare the second he’s taken the phone, because there on the screen is the man from Ealdor and the friend who sent Arthur the message. “You have _got_ to be kidding me,” he says. “Well, at least what’s-his-name wasn’t lying about him having a girlfriend. My Lord, he has the most unfortunate ears known to mankind.”

All four of them gape at him. Leon and Morgana recover almost in unison, followed shortly by Elena. Gwen is last to get her composure back, but she’s the first one to speak. “Arthur, you can’t be--are you--Lance was the guy?”

“Unless Lance is the unfortunate with the ears, then yes, Lance was the guy.” Arthur grimaces and gives Elena back her phone. She pats his hand as he does. “I know you and I have always had similar taste, but really, this is a bit excessive.”

“Well, obviously I won’t see him any longer. It isn’t fair to you,” says Gwen, but she looks absolutely miserable as she says it. They’ve all been hearing about Lancelot the Perfect for weeks now and he can’t bear to break that up, even though he’d really like to.

Well, he can only hope that whoever-it-is-with-the-ears will never tell Lance about the Craigslist Debacle. “Don’t be silly, Gwen. I can man up and face Lancelot and his perfect arse with aplomb, I promise. I won’t even ogle him.”

Gwen beams. “You are a star, Arthur. Maybe he’s got some gay friends?”

He glares at her. “I do have some pride, you know.”

Elena, apparently sensing that he wants to go and have a very manly and dignified session of beating his head against a wall, makes a far-too-exaggerated point of checking the time on her phone. “Well, would you look at that! Arthur, you and I are due at the … thing. You know.”

“Right, of course, Ellie, the thing. I hope you know that you’re useless,” says Arthur, but he stands and pulls out her chair for her while she does, mostly so she won’t knock it over. “I’ll see you lot tomorrow, shall I? Gwen, don’t you dare break up with Lance over me, he seems like a great guy.”

“I’ll see you at the gym later,” promises Leon, who will probably make his excuses within five minutes to let Morgana and Gwen gossip. Or perhaps Gwen will make her excuses and Leon will spend the next hour trying hard not to stare at Morgana and she pretends to be unconcerned. There was some funny business involving a night of tequila shooters about a month ago that he is still trying to unravel.

Arthur holds out his arm and Elena takes it, and they walk down the street. They’re barely out of earshot of the others before she squeezes his arm. “Are you going to be okay with this for real, darling?”

“Well, I don’t have much choice, do I? Gwen’s been rhapsodizing about destiny for weeks, I don’t have the heart to say I’d rather not see him again.”

“Morgana and I will protect you. And Leon.” Elena pats his arm again. “Now, how about we go for a run in the park or something? I should not have had that last waffle.”

“Come on, then. Back to my flat and we’ll get changed.” He ruffles her hair and she beams up at him, knowing exactly what he means by it.  
*  
When Merlin explains his friends to his mother (though of course she’s known Will forever), he says it’s like he has shoulder angels and shoulder devils doing double duty. Gwaine and Will get him in trouble and then mock him mercilessly, and Lancelot and Percival listen to him moan about it and sometimes offer advice. Although Percival mostly just nods and looks sympathetic (he’s the newest to their group, a friend of Lance’s met while backpacking across Europe, and Merlin isn’t entirely sure what to think of him yet. He seems nice enough, but he’s also very quiet and has very scary muscles and when he smiles he looks a bit dim. But then, Merlin’s smile doesn’t make him look all that bright so he’s not really one to judge). But he’s still firmly in shoulder-angel territory.

Lance and Percival also seem to share this misguided notion that Merlin ought to join the rest of them when they’re engaging in sport, which is why Merlin’s at the park when he should really be getting ready to prep tonight’s dinner ingredients with Percival gently lobbing a Frisbee in his direction and Will laughing his head off on a nearby bench.

“I’m never actually going to catch one,” he calls across the space between them. Percival has had the brilliant idea that perhaps if Merlin has more time to see the Frisbee coming he’ll be more likely to catch it.

“Just give it a shot,” says Percival encouragingly, and lobs the Frisbee gently in Merlin’s direction again.

The problem with Percival being six foot a million and built like a Greek god is that a gentle lob for him creates a flying plastic wheel of death, and it is aimed unerringly for Merlin’s chest this time. Merlin flails backwards and lands on his arse and nearly gets a Frisbee haircut (never mind that Frisbees aren’t sharp enough for that).

Instead of hearing it skim across the grass in the distance, though, he hears a huff and the sound of someone catching it, followed by a laugh. “Good toss. You all right there?”

Merlin turns around, knowing his ears are going red, even as Will starts laughing again. There, to compound his humiliation, is the Craigslist Bloke, who is (a week after Merlin’s faux pas) already a legend in their group. He’s not wearing a suit this time, since he appears to be out for a run, and he’s sweaty and maybe glowing a bit in the sun, though that might also be the fact that he’s a bit backlit and Merlin is still sitting on his arse like a _complete idiot_. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Percival, it appears, has jogged over to make sure Merlin is okay, and the blond steps right forward to shake his hand, and Merlin misses half the handshake because he’s standing up and brushing himself off, but when he gets up the Craigslist Bloke is pretty blatantly checking Percival out. Merlin’s heart sinks, which he refuses to admit. “Do you play here often?”

It occurs to Merlin that he actually has no idea if Percival likes men or not. Chances are if he was Gwaine would have seduced him by now. Or even Will. Or Merlin, if he was drunk enough. Their group of friends can be a bit incestuous. But then, he hasn’t tried to seduce Freya either. Maybe he’s a robot, since humans are not actually built like that. “Every once in a while. That was a great catch.”

“It was catch or be hit. Or fall on my arse,” says the blond, arching his eyebrows and turning to Merlin to include him in the joke (which is decent of him, even if he is sort of an arse) before freezing. “Oh, shit, it’s you.”

That quite neatly answers the question of whether he’d made any impression at all that first time, since he’s been recognized. It doesn’t really answer the question of what the hell he’s supposed to do now, because Will has suddenly materialized at his side, as he is wont to do, looking a bit murderous that anyone is less than pleased to see Merlin, which he is also wont to do. Percival just looks between them with a benign, confused sort of expression. Merlin really doesn’t want to deal with their reaction to meeting Craigslist Bloke, so he raises his eyebrows significantly like his Uncle Gaius does and hopes the other man follows his lead. “Oh, you’re the one who nearly knocked me over on the subway the other day,” he says, since it’s the first excuse that comes to mind considering the vaguely hunted look on Craigslist Bloke’s face.

“I’m what? I mean, I am. Sorry.”

“Mate, you are the worst liar I know,” says Will, who is heartless. “So, are you Craigslist Bloke?”

“I’m Arthur, actually.” It’s pretty easy to see that Arthur is trying hard to look neutral, but he’s also going a bit pink in the cheeks. “And who are all of you?” He looks pointedly at Percival, and Merlin has to admire his persistence, even if he also rather wants to sink into a hole.

Will is laughing too hard to answer. Merlin is giving serious thought to just babbling an excuse about the restaurant and running. Thus, Percival answers. “I’m Percival. It’s good to meet you, Arthur. This is Will and Merlin.”

Merlin could kiss him for not mentioning the Craigslist thing even though he thought it was a bit funny as well (Lancelot did not. Lancelot is still feeling guilty about it, in fact, and Merlin probably owes him chocolate truffles for that). Arthur relaxes. “I can’t stay long, I’m afraid. Meeting up with my sister for dinner. But it was great to meet you, Percival. And Merlin and Will, of course. Perhaps I’ll see you around here again, play some Frisbee.”

He jogs off. Merlin looks from Percival, who’s looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, to Will, who’s red-faced from laughing. “I’m going to go apologize to him and then head to the restaurant. I’ll see you guys later.”

Before Will can start mocking him again, Merlin runs off after Arthur and flags him down where he’s leaving the park. “Can I help you?” Arthur asks when he notices him, clearly not as willing to play nice when he’s not around Percival. “Are you here to tell me that none of your other friends are gay either?”

“You are such a prat,” blurts Merlin, and curses himself when Arthur looks ready to give him a piece of his mind. “No, sorry, sorry, I came to apologize. I’ve honestly got no idea if Percival is gay, you’ll have to ask him that yourself. I just … I was sort of mortified about being an arse and sending you that message and I told Gwaine, which was obviously a mistake because Gwaine can’t keep his fucking mouth shut, and--”

“Christ, do you ever shut up? Apology accepted. Watch out for any flying Frisbees.” And with that, Arthur walks off down the street, in the opposite direction to where Merlin needs to go.

“What an _arse_ ,” Merlin mutters, and stomps off towards Ealdor.  
*  
“Elena. Darling.”

“You already owe me about six favors, Arthur,” she replies, handing him the figures he ostensibly called her into his office to give him, never mind the head of Design probably shouldn’t be running errands for the CEO.

“I thought you might want to come to the park with me after work.”

Elena stares at him for several seconds and then shuts his office door, effectively cutting Sophia off from listening in on their conversation. “Alright, spill. You’ve been awfully secretive the past couple days, and now you want to go to the _park_. And you didn’t mention running.”

“I--well, there might be a guy. At the very least he’s good at Frisbee even if nothing comes of it. But there are a few complications, so I didn’t really want to mention.”

She sighs at him and sits down in the chair on the other side of his desk. “You are such a _bloke_. Why is my gay best friend such a man about everything?”

“Because I am a man. You need to work on your stereotyping.” He gives her a long look that he hopes reminds her of the fact that she hates shopping and shoes and is usually the one who instigates their runs or rides or games of football.

“So what kind of complications are there? Not sure if he’s gay?”

“Well, that. And he was playing Frisbee with the guy who messaged me on Lance’s behalf on Craigslist.”

Elena stares at him for a few seconds and then bursts out laughing. “One thing I can say for you, Arthur, is that your life is never boring.”

He reminds himself that he’s asking her for a favour and should be nice until she caves. Morgana he would attack immediately, but he also doesn’t intend to tell Morgana about any romantic developments until he’s planning to get married, considering her last advice led to his complete humiliation. “Come on, just a casual walk through the park. I’ll even buy you ice cream, after.”

“I am not six.” Arthur just looks at her. “What kind of ice cream?”

Arthur laughs, since that signals the beginning of her complete capitulation, and changes the subject to work. At five fifteen she comes to his office and drags him out, giving their excuses to Leon and Morgana on the way. Morgana’s look promises retribution, but there isn’t time to worry about that before Elena tows him down the street towards the park.

Just as he was hoping, Percival is tossing a ball around with some friends--Merlin and what’s-his-face, the one who about split his sides laughing when he figured out who Arthur was, are both there as well, though Merlin is reading a book on a bench and not dodging throws, as well as a timid-looking girl with a wicked throw. Lance is there too, however, and Arthur nearly turns around and leaves when he notices that. The only thing that stops him is Elena’s hand tightening on his arm. “I will tell Morgana about all this if you chicken out,” she hisses, which isn’t fair in the least.

“Merlin,” he says as jovially as he can manage, since that seems like the easiest way to get into the group.

Merlin’s head jerks up and he goes through a wide array of expressions in a very short time, settling in the end on a crumpled, long-suffering sort of squint. It makes him look disconcertingly like Leon for a second. “Arthur. Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Elena King, and it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Elena shakes Merlin’s hand, with enough force that Merlin looks bewildered when she lets go, and beams at him. “What are you reading?”

“Cookbook.” He holds it up, still giving Arthur sidelong glances. “Quite a coincidence to see you here again, Arthur.”

Arthur interrupts before Elena can try to lie on behalf, because she’s tried before and it never ends well. “Elena and I are winding down from a stressful meeting. Why aren’t you playing with your friends?”

Merlin mutters something under his breath involving the word “mother.” “I’m accident-prone and I have a reprieve today because I can’t make souffle with a concussion.”

“You like cooking?” asks Elena, sitting down next to Merlin and dragging Arthur down next to her so they’re all squished on the bench.

“I’m a chef. I own the Ealdor, downtown. It was my Da’s, and after he … uh, my mother ran it until I had my degree, and then I took over so she could get out of the city like she’s been wanting to do forever, and you probably didn’t want to know that.”

“Nonsense.” Elena proceeds to embark on a remarkably thorough investigation of Merlin’s life, family, and friends. The last gets him to mention Percival, among others, so Arthur makes a note to thank her for the information while he watches whatever game they’re playing. Then she drags him into talking about the office and before he knows it fifteen minutes have gone by with the three of them chatting about nothing terribly significant and he hasn’t got any closer to his goal for the day, which was to figure out if Percival is gay or just a good person to do sport with.

“I’ve got to go,” Merlin says eventually. “Gwaine’s in the kitchen, which is fine for the most part, but I’m due in so he can go out tonight.” He stands up and waves his friends over. “I’m headed out, you guys!”

Lancelot is the first one to jog over, and he freezes guiltily when he sees Arthur. Arthur grimaces, and Elena steps forward. “You must be Lance! We’re friends of Gwen’s, actually, and she’s told us all about you.” That breaks the ice, even if it makes them look shocked to a man (or woman, in the case of the one girl, who introduces herself as Freya and then draws Merlin off to the side to whisper at him).

Percival is the last to lope over, having apparently had to retrieve the ball, and gives Arthur a big smile when he sees him, which is a good sign. And then he looks at Elena. And Elena looks back.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Arthur thirty seconds later, when they haven’t said anything and the group around them has quieted to stare at whatever’s going on. It seems Percival isn’t gay after all. “Ellie, get his number and let’s go home, okay?”

That makes both of them blush and Elena swat him on the arm, and Arthur engages Lance in conversation while they work their way through introductions and make tentative plans for dinner. Lance seems determined to keep things from being awkward, but Arthur catches Merlin giving him a very odd look over his shoulder before he leaves.

Five minutes later, he and Elena are on their way out of the park, and she’s slowly coming down from giddy glee into an expression that he knows means that she’s only just realized that for the second time in less than a month he’s taken an interest in a bloke only for said bloke to take an interest in one of his best friends. “I am so sorry,” she says eventually.

Arthur would very much like to be angry, but he’s never been able to get angry at Elena for long. “Can’t be helped. Apparently he isn’t into men. I’m more worried about the fact that I’ve suddenly started being interested in straight men than in your budding romance, to be honest.”

She squints at him before changing the subject. “Merlin seems nice.”

“I suppose so. You two hit it off pretty well. Before you met Percival, I rather wondered--”

Elena starts laughing. “Merlin’s gayer than a maypole, Arthur, honestly, and you cured me of trying for lost causes when we were fifteen.”

Arthur blinks at that particular tidbit, which he’d somehow missed out on entirely (despite the neckerchiefs he’s worn … and the fact that he was apparently browsing the “m4m” section on Craigslist. In retrospect, he really ought to have picked up on that), but he can’t bring it up because he has to scold her for bringing up the virginity incident that they definitely don’t speak of and by the time he’s walked her home he’s forgotten all about it.  
*  
A month after Lance’s first date with Gwen (and a week and a half after Percival’s first date with Elena), someone has the brilliant idea that their groups of friends should meet, since half of them are dating already. Merlin suspects it was Gwen’s idea, from what he’s heard of her, and while he would dearly love to avoid Arthur for, oh, forever, Elena was nice enough and he can’t wait to see who it is that’s got Lance so besotted. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously since Freya in uni. So Merlin does the only logical thing: he suggests his restaurant as the meeting-place and then proceeds to shut himself in the kitchen with the excuse that he’s got to make sure the food is perfect for his new friends.

“You’re a coward,” Will informs him about fifteen minutes before the group is supposed to arrive.

“I’ve got a restaurant to run, and it’s not like we’ve got enough staff that I can afford to take a night off to sit about and watch Arthur make eyes at you or Gwaine or whoever else he decides he wants to fuck next.”

“So it _is_ about your massive crush on Craigslist Bloke. Mate, did anyone ever tell you that you’re a bit pathetic?”

“You do, at least once a week, and I don’t have a crush on Arthur. Couldn’t you have sent Freya back here?”

“Freya is reminding Gwaine of his manners, and you don’t need sympathy, you need me.”

“I own Ealdor, Will, and I’m the best chef we’ve got.” He grins. “So it’s only partly an excuse. But Arthur’s an arse and he doesn’t like me very much, so I’m happy staying back here and only coming out at the end.”

“Coward,” repeats Will, and Merlin tosses his order booklet at him and sends him out, since he’s on shift tonight as well. The problem with employing most of his friends is that they can rarely do something all at the same time.

Merlin gets to work, since it’s a busy night and only him and prep cook in the kitchen. Eventually, Freya comes back with the orders from their table of friends. “Elena asked after you,” she says. “Arthur did as well, actually.” Merlin tries not to react to that because of course Arthur is going to be polite, everyone is on their best behavior. Freya pats his arm anyway and sets about helping him with the meals everyone ordered. “We don’t have to worry about Lance or Percival either,” she offers after a few seconds. “Gwen is just as infatuated as Lance, and Elena’s a bit less obvious but she seems sweet.”

The pause that comes next is very telling. “What’s Arthur doing, Freya?”

“He and Gwaine seem to be getting along quite well,” she says brightly.

Merlin ignores his own disappointment (and he has no right to be disappointed considering he’s met this bloke three times and knows that he is definitely not Arthur’s type if he’s hit on Lance, Percival, _and_ Gwaine now) in favour of putting an arm around Freya. “I’m so sorry, Frey. He’s an arse. They both are.”

“It’s not like I’m not used to it,” she points out, and Merlin nods and gives her a spoonful of the sauce he’s making. Freya isn’t waiting on Gwaine, precisely, since she dates other people, but she’s still at least a bit in love with him. And she’s the only person of appropriate age in the greater Camelot area with working reproductive organs who Gwaine hasn’t tried to put the moves on, which definitely means something. “Anyway, I’ve got to go back out there. If it doesn’t get too busy, maybe you could serve the meals? We’ve been talking about you, and Gwen and Leon and Morgana want to meet you.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he promises, and Freya kisses his cheek before she leaves again, carrying a few entrees for other customers.

As it happens, there is something of a lull when he’s about finished everyone’s dinners, so he loads up a tray and brings out half of them, signalling Will as he comes out to get the rest. Lance waves him over with a grin, his other hand occupied holding that of a pretty brown-skinned girl with a wide smile and curly hair, who must be Gwen. That makes it easy to identify Leon, who has a beard and might just rival Percival for height, and Morgana, who looks like a supermodel. “Hello again, Merlin,” says Elena while Freya swings by to help him distribute the plates to the correct people. “I’m sorry you can’t join us tonight.”

“I really need to hire another chef so I can have a night off once in a while,” he says, smiling around at everyone else as Will arrives with the rest of the plates.

Within the five minutes Merlin allows himself talking to his friends, he makes several observations: he and Gwen are going to adore each other, first off. She reminds him of his mother in all the best ways and she lights Lance up like nobody else he’s ever seen. He suspects he will adore Leon and Morgana as well, if he can get over being mildly terrified of Morgana, but he knows that they’re sleeping together (which apparently Arthur and Elena haven’t figured out, though Merlin isn’t sure about Gwen). And Arthur is definitely flirting with Gwaine, who normally would be charming him right back but isn’t.

When he notices that, he looks around for Freya, who’s off seating a couple who just came in, so Merlin makes a note to ask her about that later and then excuses himself back to the kitchen. Will comes in twenty minutes later. “Gwaine says to cook yourself whatever you want to eat tonight and then get out there, he’ll take the rest of your shift.”

“I thought that he and Arthur had hit it off. What’s up?”

“I don’t know. They had a heated discussion and then he flagged me down and that was that.” Merlin reads between the lines and tries not to groan. Gwaine’s always been a bit protective of Merlin, probably to make up for the fact that he was a bit of a twat way back at the beginning when they were in their second year at uni and Merlin thought that sleeping with Gwaine was the start of a relationship and Gwaine just wanted to be mates. Probably he told Arthur he wouldn’t sleep with him out of some misguided sense of nobility, which means that Merlin is going to go out there blushing cherry red because if Gwaine told Arthur that Merlin’s got a crush on him while he was letting him down …

“I need new friends.”

“Well, get out there and audition the others for the job. Handy, right?” Will sweeps back out with a few more plates.

Merlin makes himself a dinner out of leftover bits of other people’s. Nothing he would serve to a customer, but good enough when cooking for himself is a luxury he rarely gets to indulge in. Gwaine comes in after fifteen minutes, claps him on the shoulder, and kicks him out with his plate when Merlin tries to ask what he’s in for.  
*  
Arthur has no idea what’s going on. Well, on the surface he does. Gwen and Elena decided that since they were dating men from the same social group that their social groups should meet, and since their boyfriends are apparently pushovers (which makes Arthur just a shameful bit glad that he didn’t get anywhere with either of them), there are anywhere between eight and ten people at the table at any given time (since apparently all of Merlin’s friends work at his restaurant), making awkward conversation that feels like a first date with far too many people.

No, the confusing part is Gwaine. Gwaine is attractive and definitely into men if his smacking Will’s arse and then proceeding to leer at Arthur and Leon (and Morgana and Gwen and Elena, so strictly speaking apparently he’s bisexual, but that’s a step better than Lance or Percival) is any indication. Of course Arthur knew within the first five minutes that Gwaine would be a one-night shag and not a relationship, but that wasn’t really a deterrent and so he flirted, and Gwaine actually flirted back.

Everything was going swimmingly, in fact, until Merlin came out of the back to lean all over Lance’s chair and chat to them while avoiding Arthur’s eyes at every opportunity. Apparently the awkwardness of their past encounters got to him. After he left, though, Gwaine sent a considering look after him, and then clammed up, even going so far as to tell Will that he would take over for Merlin in the kitchen when Arthur kept trying.

“You’re a bit of a twat, but we’ll see what happens,” says Gwaine just before he leaves, punching Arthur’s shoulder and kissing Morgana’s hand on his way. Elena, sitting on his other side, pats his thigh as Merlin emerges with a plate full of rice and vegetables, looking less than pleased at being ejected from his own kitchen.

After a quick look around the table, Merlin takes Freya’s sometimes-seat in between Percival and Lance instead of the one Gwaine vacated next to Arthur, and Arthur is unaccountably stung. It’s not that he’ll languish without Merlin’s attention, but for two gay men to dismiss him in as many minutes is a bit galling. He’s not used to being rejected, until the past few weeks, that is. Anyway, he tells himself firmly, Merlin isn’t his type.

As if she can read his mind, Morgana gives Arthur a dirty look and looks over at Merlin. “The food here is absolutely delicious. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it before.”

Merlin shrugs, giving her a bashful smile through his lashes. “We’re nothing special. Just the kind of thing you get served in your grandmother’s kitchen, or that’s what my mother told me when she still ran it. But I’m glad you like it.”

Everyone falls over themselves to tell Merlin how delicious dinner was and how lovely the little hole-in-the-wall restaurant is, and Arthur is tempted to join in until he realizes that Will is hovering by the table and cracking up, and that Merlin’s blush is a bit more mortified than pleased. “Mate,” says Will, “it’s like you have superpowers or something. He’s been like this since primary,” he informs the table at large. “Five minutes and he has everyone around wrapped around his finger. Everyone likes him.”

Merlin gives Will a two-fingered salute and answers with his mouth full. “Not everyone likes me, you bastard. Arthur doesn’t like me. Right?” He looks at Arthur for support, sounding remarkably cheerful about it.

Arthur, on the other hand, is a good deal less cheerful, because everyone at the table is looking at him with near-identical looks of disapproval. Including Leon and Elena, who he thought he could count on to be on his side. “I don’t know you well enough to dislike you,” he says when he realizes that some sort of rebuttal is required.

“We’ve talked about compliments, brother dear, and how bad you are at giving them,” says Morgana, looking only just more amused than annoyed, and Arthur realizes how idiotic his last comment sounded.

Not that he’ll admit it. “Well, it’s not like I can tell Merlin that his shoes are lovely and match his dress perfectly, Morgana.”

“Apparently you’re immune to Merlin’s superpowers, Arthur,” says Elena in her This Is Significant tone of voice, and Arthur admits that perhaps he should be nicer and it isn’t precisely Merlin’s fault that he’s always around when Arthur makes a complete tit of himself.

From the red on Merlin’s cheeks and the way he’s staring at his plate, it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want an apology, or any attention at all, so Arthur decides it’s his duty to change the subject somehow. “Perhaps it’s my superpower to be immune to superpowers.”

“Nah, you’re just a bastard,” says Leon, amiably enough, and grins at him enough that Arthur doesn’t get stung by it.

“Now, that isn’t nice,” Merlin says, and his face lights up with a grin. The power of it makes Arthur blink and wonder if he isn’t being affected by Merlin’s superpowers after all. “Could be he’s just a bit thick and the force of my personality hasn’t made it through his skull yet.” He goes still right after he finishes saying it, like he hadn’t quite meant to say the words out loud, and somehow that manages to break the ice.

They end up staying around for another hour, and the conversation is a lot less stilted than it was earlier in the night. Will, Freya, and even Gwaine stop by every once in a while to tell a story or add to the conversation, and Merlin leaves once in a while to greet a regular or make sure Gwaine isn’t buried in the back. When he returns he usually has a plate of appetizers or a new bottle of wine or something else with him, and Arthur warms to him more than he’d expected.

“Right, you lot, I have to close this place up and you aren’t helping,” says Merlin at last, which seems to be some sort of magical cue for all of his friends to get up and start grabbing supplies from behind the bar to clean the tables.

Arthur sits and fidgets for about ten seconds before deciding that he might as well be useful, and he goes and picks up a cloth with the rest of them and wets it in a bucket once Lancelot has filled it. Elena joins him pretty quickly, helping Percival move the room back into its base configuration after half the customers hauled tables together and apart all evening, and all his other friends get up to help as well, despite Merlin and Lance protesting.

After a few minutes, when everyone is busily engaged in cleaning and Merlin is closing down the bar, Arthur slips into the kitchen, where Gwaine and a few other employees are washing dishes and putting things away. Arthur approaches Gwaine and makes sure to keep his voice low when he speaks. “What the hell was all that about, out there? You lost interest pretty fast.”

Gwaine gives him an unimpressed look. He and Morgana and Elena ought to form a club. “You’ll figure it out eventually, your Highness. Now, as long as you’re back here, you can help us with the pots and pans.”  
*  
Merlin meets Gilli when he finally gives in after a week of working noon to midnight every day and advertises for a second chef. Gwaine’s good enough as a stop-gap, but he wants someone trained, and Gilli is the first one to interview. Merlin’s first uncharitable thought is _I can’t hire him, Gwaine will find some sort of joke about us both having ridiculous ears and chase him off within the first week_ , but Gilli turns out to be a good chef and great company, if a little angry at the world.

He asks Merlin out during a slow dinner shift after an exhausting game of Frisbee in the park. It’s been almost three weeks since the dinner at Ealdor and Merlin’s shocked at how well his group of friends, rag-tag and barely paying the rent, gets along with their new friends, all of whom are posh and most of whom are higher-ups at Pendragon Corporation. It seems unlikely, but despite some awkwardness they all get along really well, even if it makes the games even more cutthroat than they were before. Merlin had begged out after Morgana hit him right in the gut with a very well-aimed throw and Arthur had fussed at him for a good five minutes before rejoining the game. “So, I know that when you’re not working I am and vice versa,” says Gilli, de-boning a chicken while Merlin wonders if Morgana cracked on of his ribs, “but I was wondering if you’d like to do something sometime. Maybe grab breakfast or a coffee or a movie sometime if Gwaine can take over the kitchen.”

Normally, Merlin has hard and fast rules about not sleeping with anyone who works at his restaurant, having learned the hard way that it only makes things awkward and complicated and that it becomes impossible to actually find time to spend together outside of work. But his infatuation with Arthur still hasn’t gone away and he desperately wants it to, especially with them spending so much more time together lately. His friends all know, of course, and Will won’t stop teasing about it (although Gwaine, for reasons best known to himself, stopped with that after the night they all had dinner. Things are awkward between he and Arthur now, but he brushes off Merlin’s questions whenever he tries to ask), but more worryingly, he thinks Arthur’s friends are starting to suspect. Remembering Gwen’s worried look after Arthur finished making sure Morgana hadn’t ruptured Merlin’s spleen, he smiles at Gilli and picks up a knife to start chopping the onions they’ll need for tonight’s soup. “I’d like that. Maybe brunch, the day after tomorrow? We could meet here, there’s a place a couple streets over that serves great breakfast even during the week.”

Gilli beams at him, and they finish the rest of the prep for dinner in near-silence. Merlin goes home that night grinning and makes a point of not telling any of his friends about the date, because that would just jinx it.

Of course, that also means that he has no warning when, fifteen minutes into his brunch with Gilli (who looks like he might be inching his hand over to hold Merlin’s), Arthur and Leon walk in, arguing about something business-related. He should have known better than to go on a date somewhere Elena and Gwen introduced him to. “Brace yourself,” he says to Gilli, since it’s only fair warning. He hasn’t met the larger group. “I’m afraid our date’s about to be crashed.”

Sure enough, when Arthur and Leon see him, they wave and go to a table right next to Merlin’s, although Leon stops Arthur when he seems likely to just drag chairs over to sit with them. “Good morning, Merlin. Who’s your friend?” Arthur asks.

“This is Gilli, he’s the new chef at Ealdor. Gilli, this is Arthur and Leon, I think I’ve told you a bit about them. Are you two here on a business brunch?”

“Yes,” says Leon, who has clearly picked up that Merlin is on a date and doesn’t really want it interrupted, especially not by the man who he has a huge sodding crush on.

“Nothing that can’t wait a few minutes, though.” Arthur leans around Merlin to wave at Gilli. “You haven’t been around that I’ve seen before.”

Gilli is glaring and Merlin knows he hasn’t got the best opinion of posh people, so he intercepts before they can start arguing. “Like I said, he’s the new chef, so you wouldn’t know him.”

“I imagine we’ll get to know him. If he’s at Ealdor it’s only a matter of time before he joins the group.”

“He sort of is already,” says Merlin, trying not to grind his teeth. It’s not like he doesn’t like Arthur--he actually enjoys his company, when he’s not being a prat, so it isn’t just his hormones making him so damn attracted--but having him along on a date that’s mostly about getting over him is counterproductive. It’s that thought that leads him to blurt “We’re on a date right now, so if you wouldn’t mind …”

“Oh,” says Arthur, and they stare at each other for a few seconds trying to figure out exactly what is supposed to happen next. Merlin certainly can’t think of anything to say to make the situation less awkward. “Of course. We’ll leave you to it,” Arthur adds eventually, in a stiff tone Merlin can’t place, and makes a point of turning around and starting to talk about mergers or investments or something else equally confusing.

Merlin goes back to making first-date conversation with Gilli, but he’s all too aware of Arthur’s presence at his back and feels more trapped than anything by the end. Luckily, Arthur and Leon leave first, apparently for some sort of meeting with the Marketing department (run by Morgana), and Merlin does his best to salvage the date from there. Gilli stops him after barely five minutes. “So, this isn’t going to work.” Merlin stares at him. “If you want to make your ex jealous, that’s fine, but I’d rather not deal with it.”

“What? We never dated. We don’t date.”

“Either way, you’re great, and I’m definitely going to keep working at Ealdor, but you should get things sorted with him instead of going out with me. I’ll see you for the dinner shift tomorrow.” And with that extraordinary announcement, Gilli waves and walks out of the restaurant, slumping the second he’s out the door like he doesn’t realize Merlin can see him through the massive window.

Merlin feels wretchedly guilty, and it isn’t until he’s back in his flat getting ready to call Freya that he finally remembers where he’d heard Arthur sound like that before: after Percival fell hard for Elena in the park.

It takes nearly half an hour to convince himself that Arthur is just being a prat and definitely isn’t interested, for his own sanity.  
*  
Arthur is not jealous. He is _not_ , no matter the looks his friends give him when he misses games in the park the third time running with an excuse even he will admit is lame. It just so happens that he wants a bit of distance from Merlin and his friends, and the original guesses his friends have for him avoiding the park are certainly reason enough for that.

“Is the thing with Lance bothering you still?” Gwen asks the second he bows out the first time.

“I thought you didn’t mind about Percival,” says Elena anxiously when she hears.

Morgana’s more blunt. “If this is just because Gwaine turned you down, Arthur, one would think you could swallow your pride and make friends.”

Leon stays quiet about it, although he was there when they accidentally crashed Merlin’s date and probably has suspicions of his own. He rolls his eyes at Arthur but doesn’t try to talk him into going.

Elena is the one who voices it the third time Arthur turns down an outing, on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon when he would otherwise never turn the opportunity down, and she at least has the decency to drag him into privacy before starting to harangue him. “This is about Merlin, isn’t it? I don’t know what your problem with him is, other than him seeing you at less than your best. Or … have you finally got yourself sorted where he’s concerned? Because that might explain it too.”

“I have no sorting to do where Merlin is concerned.”

Her eyebrows draw together. “So you didn’t figure it out?”

Arthur sighs. “Figure _what_ out, Ellie?”

She sighs right back at him and he wonders vaguely if it’s that annoying when he does it. “Normally, we all like to let you figure things out for yourself, and I think after the first time most of us sort of guessed that you _had_ and you were freaking out about it, but--”

“I’m not a child,” he feels compelled to point out.

“Arthur. Merlin has--or had, at least--a huge whopping crush on you. Probably since the night you met Lance. And you’ve sort of been stomping all over his heart since. So I figured either you’re avoiding him because you figured that out and wanted to let him down gently instead of systematically working your way through his friends, or you’re avoiding him because you developed a crush in return and you can’t handle it because you think he’s not your type.” Arthur tries to figure out what to say to that. Elena moves from exasperated to pitying in less than a second. “You really hadn’t figured it out.”

“Leon and I accidentally interrupted Merlin while he was on a date,” he says without quite meaning to.

Elena smacks his arm. “And you didn’t tell me? It’s not Merlin’s fault if he doesn’t want to wait around for you to figure out that you’re jealous.”

“I am not jealous.” She just looks at him. “Really, Elena, I’m not. Merlin is skinny, and he has ridiculous ears, and he is too clumsy to go anywhere without a keeper, and--”

“And you’re smiling,” she points out. “My God, you’ve got it bad.”

“You are being ridiculous.”

“Then you won’t mind coming along to the park with us.” Arthur opens to his mouth to object to her shoddy logic if nothing else. “Or I’ll tell Morgana,” she finishes, which really isn’t fair.

Arthur finds himself at the park twenty minutes later, trying hard not to sulk. Everyone’s there, and that includes Merlin--and Gilli. Who is quite chummy with Merlin and the rest of his friends, and sitting off to the side arguing menus with Merlin when they get there. He glares at Arthur when they show up, and Arthur pretends not to see it because of course he isn’t jealous, that’s just Elena putting ideas in his head, and Gilli’s got no right to dislike him, since he left them alone after he twigged it was a date.

To add insult to injury, Gilli excuses himself five minutes after Arthur arrives. “I’ve got first shift in the kitchen tonight,” he explains to the group at large, and gives Arthur another dirty look.

By the time he’s said his goodbyes and gone, all of Arthur’s friends are staring between them with knowing looks that Arthur really does not want to see the results of. Eventually they start actually playing games, though, and Arthur drifts over to Merlin’s blanket, ignoring Elena’s raised eyebrows. “I’m sorry again about the other day,” he offers when Merlin just squints at him.

“It was pretty awkward,” says Merlin, which is half an acknowledgment and half, Arthur hopes, an acceptance of his apology. “Aren’t you going to join the others?”

“I’m here under protest.”

“Yes, I’d noticed you haven’t been around.” Merlin takes a breath and Arthur doesn’t even bother hoping that he isn’t going to mention it, because of course Merlin would. He isn’t the type to let something like that pass. “I sort of feel like that’s my fault. I mean, you get along with the rest of us.”

Arthur gives him a disbelieving look. Gwaine’s still ignoring him more often than not, and he and Will can’t talk for more than five seconds without trading barbs. “I’ve had a busy time of it lately, that’s all.”

Merlin just shrugs. “Sorry to hear that, then. Suppose it must be busy being a CEO.”

“Not as busy as you. I’ve no idea how you have time for any sort of life at all.” Arthur settles down next to Merlin even though he gets a sideways glance for it.

“Well, Gilli helps with that, and Gwaine when he can. Just like you’ve got all the heads of your departments to cover for you.” Merlin nods towards the game. “And I can’t complain, really. It pays the rent, and helps out a lot of my friends as well, on top of which I get to cook for a living.”

“You’ve always wanted to?”

“I was brought up in a kitchen. Apparently my da had a chef’s hat on me before I was a year old. There are pictures. And then after he left my mam kept me around, and my uncle likes cooking too, although he isn’t a chef.”

Arthur keeps him talking about his mother, who’s apparently on a farm in the country somewhere, and his uncle, a psychologist in the city, while the games go on, and after periodic mistrustful looks from Merlin (not to mention everyone else), he finally relaxes and they have a proper conversation, and the whole thing is surprisingly nice.

Elena raises her eyebrows at him when she leaves with Percival, and Arthur leaves when Merlin does, unwilling to undergo the interrogation he’s sure Morgana and Gwen will give him quite yet.

It isn’t until he’s walking in the door to his flat and wondering when he can have a conversation with Merlin again that he realizes Elena was right and he might be in more than a bit of trouble.  
*  
“So, you and Arthur seemed cozy at the park today,” says Freya when Merlin gets to the restaurant that night. “Has he finally made a move? Or did you?”

“No, no moving, no dating, no anything, seriously. I think that was his way of apologizing for ruining my date with Gilli the other week, that’s all.” She just peers at him, disbelieving but too polite to say anything of the sort. “We just talked about our families and stuff. And I babbled.”

“Sounds like great first date conversation,” she says, and Merlin would send her out onto the floor to take orders but he has no illusions about actually having authority over his employees. They just tend to laugh at him when he tries to order them about. “I don’t know how you can’t see it, Merlin. He was just staring right in your eyes that whole time, like you were the most fascinating thing in the world, and he kept _touching you_.”

And Merlin was acutely aware of the touching but Arthur is probably just physical with his friends and Freya is starting to look like he’s her favorite character from a soppy film so he has to stop her before she gets her hopes up. “Freya, I am not actually Elizabeth Bennett, you know. And Arthur would make a rubbish Mr. Darcy, what with making eyes at all my friends.”

“He’s just taken a while to come around, that’s all,” she says, smiling brightly. “No one looks at someone else like he was looking at you without wanting to ravish them.”

“I’m not his type.”

“You men and your types.” Freya rarely gets exasperated, but she’s heading in that direction now. “It’s just an excuse not to give it a try.”

“Could you stop getting my hopes up?” Merlin snaps, and goes to find something to chop, since he ought to be working, after all.

The conversation is on his mind, though, as is Arthur, for the next week. They see each other in passing a few times, and Merlin gets a very odd look from Elena when she stops by Ealdor to see Percival one evening, and every time Arthur makes a point of singling him out to talk to him, even though they’re always in groups. Every one of Merlin’s friends (and Gilli, which is absolutely mortifying) asks him somehow if something’s going on, and by the end of the week he’s snapping at them all to shut up every few minutes because he really needs to not think about it. Arthur is attractive, and fun, and actually nice once you get past the bluster, and Merlin is dangerously close to falling for him before they’d even been in a date. It’s only the constant inner litany of “He wanted Lance first, and Percival next, and then Gwaine” that keeps him from doing something truly stupid, like asking the man out.

It all goes to hell the next Sunday, when Merlin’s leaving the kitchen after an early dinner shift and runs smack into Arthur, who looks a bit thrown, and who isn’t trailing Gwen and Elena and Leon and Morgana for once. “Um, hello,” he says, since Arthur’s just staring and one of them has to say something eventually.

“I was just wondering how you are. You never showed up at the park today, and you usually try to make an appearance.”

“I overslept this morning, is all, and then I had things to get ready for my shift. Are you here for dinner?”

“Only if you’re joining me. The rest of them are out for food that you don’t serve here, but I wasn’t in the mood for a large group so I thought I would come and find you.”

His voice is perfectly friendly and polite, but nothing more, and Merlin calls himself an idiot for getting his hopes up yet again before shrugging. “Truth be told, I was just going to go in search of food that I didn’t cook as well. Maybe a kebab, I could murder a kebab.”

“Kebabs it is, then,” says Arthur, inviting himself along, and hovers around by the door while Merlin says goodbye to all his regulars and employees.

The awkwardness dissipates pretty quickly while they argue amiably over what the best kebab stand in the area is and chat about their friends. Lance and Gwen are probably going to start picking out curtains within weeks, never mind they haven’t been dating long enough to do that. Percival and Elena continue to run one another ragged during jogs and games of Frisbee (and probably other things as well, but Merlin and Arthur give each other horrified looks when they realize that and silently agree to never think of it again). Gwaine actually went on two dates with Gwen’s brother and Freya is trying hard to keep her chin up about it. Merlin asks if Leon and Morgana are ever going to admit they’re in a relationship and Arthur chokes on his kebab in shock, which makes Merlin change the subject fast.

With any of his other friends, Merlin would just invite them up to his flat, especially when he’s as tired as he is, but with Arthur he feels the need to be on neutral ground, preferably in public. It’s far too easy to imagine their ramble around Camelot’s streets as a date, and bringing Arthur back to his flat in that context would only end in disaster. Not that Merlin doesn’t have self-control, because he does, unlike some other people he could mention (Gwaine). It’s just that things with Arthur are feeling a bit too natural, like this is normal and Merlin could thread his arm through Arthur’s and put his chin on Arthur’s shoulder and that Arthur would lean into it. That, he decides, is a dangerous line of thought, and he ought to disengage before he makes an idiot of himself. “I think I’m going to make an early night of it,” he says when they get to a place on the street where it would be easy for them to turn in opposite directions to get home. “It was good to see you.”

Arthur’s face actually falls, but he straightens his shoulders and smiles a second later. “We’ll have to do it again sometime. You’re surprisingly good company, you know.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you were shyer at first.” Arthur stops them walking and pulls out his phone. “Here, I want your number. It’s good to talk to you away from both of our entourages and I have every intention of doing it again.”

With Arthur smiling at him in the light of the street light and the way he takes Merlin’s hand and shoves the phone into it, Merlin knows he’s either got to get some distance or go mad. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, and you can have my number, but maybe we shouldn’t do this too often?”

Arthur’s face shutters, and Merlin feels hellishly guilty. “I find it hard to think of how that could be taken in a good way, Merlin.”

Merlin owes it to him to be honest. This isn’t secondary school and all their friends are friends. This will be horrible, but probably best for everyone in the long run. “I’ve got a huge stupid crush on you, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he mutters, putting his number in as quick as he can, “and things like this are just going to get my hopes up. Give me a while to get over you, yeah?” He hands Arthur his phone. “I’ve got to go.”

“Merlin--”

“Seriously, Arthur, I do not want to have this conversation right now. I’m going home. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”

Arthur’s still trying to talk to him, but he doesn’t follow when Merlin turns around and walks away, and that’s what’s important.

Two days later, during which time Arthur doesn’t call him and Merlin tries hard not to wallow, Merlin finds himself on Craigslist late at night again, killing his stupid heartbreak with a bottle of cheap wine and the missed connections. He almost misses the headline while he scrolls listlessly, but once he sees it, he can’t click fast enough, hope flaring into life again.

 _Ealdor again - m4m (Camelot)_

 _You: charming large-eared chef who’s got superpowers that apparently take a while to work on me. Me: complete idiot who’s maybe a bit in love with you and might have fucked things up the other night by not just grabbing you and snogging you when I could. Ask someone for my number? I don’t want to call you till I’m sure you’ve seen this._

 _-Location: Camelot  
-It is NOT okay to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests_  
*  
Arthur’s mobile rings at one thirty on a Wednesday morning, waking him up, and he’s all set to growl at whoever’s on the other line when he sees Merlin’s name on the display. “Merlin?”

“I might be a little drunk,” says Merlin, voice shaky, “and also, you’re a complete arse. It’s not like I lurk on Craigslist or something, what if I hadn’t _seen that_?”

“I had a backup plan,” Arthur admits, sitting up and feeling much more awake, the beginnings of happiness starting to spread through him. “It involved asking Elena to ask Percival to somehow put you in the way or seeing the ad. And if that hadn’t worked I was prepared to grovel a bit. You wouldn’t listen to me the other night, and I really wanted to--”

“Could you maybe shut up?” Arthur does so, and a few seconds pass in silence like Merlin is worried he’s going to start talking again. “I feel like an arse saying this, but it’s going to bother me if I don’t ask, and--”

“I don’t like you because the others turned me down,” Arthur says immediately, even though Merlin asked him to shut up. “I would have wanted to kill Lance within a week, he’s far too nice, and Percival doesn’t _talk_ , and Gwaine only ever would have been a bit of a shag and I knew it. You are a much better option. I’m just a bit of an idiot. Ask any of my friends. Elena has been telling me to ask you out for ages.”

“Okay.” Merlin’s voice goes soft. “A bit in love with me?”

Arthur’s face flames. The post had been written with the help of several fingers of brandy. “Well. I realize it’s a bit soon, as we haven’t gone on a date yet unless you count the other night, which I’d rather like to, but I thought you’d appreciate it. Like those girly films you like so much.”

“ _Amelie_ is not a girly film. And I’d rather not count the other night as our first date, if it’s all the same to you. I was sort of miserable and then I was a complete git at the end there and I don’t want that to be our first date.”

“So … what would you like to be our first date?”

“Call in sick to work tomorrow,” says Merlin, out of nowhere, and then Arthur can almost _hear_ him blush. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say. You can’t just call out of work on short notice like this because you want to go on a date, you’re the CEO.”

“Tell me what you were going to suggest.” It’s incredibly irresponsible to be thinking about it at all, but he’s tired and a little giddy and Merlin actually wants to go out on a date with him, and waiting a few days for their schedules to mesh doesn’t exactly feel like an option at this point.

“I don’t know, really. I thought may you could come to my flat, and I could make you lunch or something. I’d like to cook for you. And if we go to Ealdor we wouldn’t have any privacy or if we go to the place with the brunch I’ll be thinking about the date with Gilli, so I really thought my flat might be the best option.”

Merlin’s tripping over his words and normally Arthur would laugh at him for stammering like a schoolgirl, but mostly he’s busy trying to figure out a. if there’s an implied offer of sex in being invited to Merlin’s apartment and b. if all of his meetings for the day can be rescheduled. “I’ll call off work,” he finds himself saying a few seconds later. “I think at this point it would be a bit anticlimactic not to see you tomorrow. Today.”

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You aren’t asking. But I’m doing it. I never take time off, and Pendragon can tick along without me for the day. Really, the only danger is Morgana doing a hostile takeover.”

“If you’re willing to take that risk.” Merlin laughs, and Arthur leans back against his headboard, feeling a bit ridiculous but happier than he has in weeks, possibly months. Elena is going to mock him forever.

“You’re worth the risk,” he says, since Merlin’s tipsy and he’s tired and that’s probably the right situation for soppy statements.

There’s silence over the line for a good minute, but it doesn’t sound shocked or unhappy, and Arthur hasn’t got anything to say, so he lets it stretch out. “I don’t want to hang up,” says Merlin at last, and at least they’re on the same page with being soppy.

“I don’t either.”

They eventually fall asleep on the phone, and Arthur wakes up some time around three to the sound of Merlin snoring in his ear and hangs up with a whispered good night that he only says because he’s relatively certain Merlin won’t hear it. Then he sleeps until seven, calls his assistant to inform her that he’s ill and won’t be in, and goes back to sleep until nine.

He wakes up again when Elena calls him. “Sophia says you’re ill. You aren’t ill, Arthur, I talked to you last night and I can tell a week in advance if you’re coming down with something.”

“Merlin and I have a date today,” he says, and doesn’t even bother not sounding shamelessly happy about it.

She pauses. “You are going to tell me this story, later. In great detail. Because the last I heard Merlin had confessed his love for you on the street and you stood there like an idiot while he walked off into the sunset and you were heartbroken and pretending you didn’t like him enough to be heartbroken.”

Arthur winces; Elena always does pick the bluntest way of saying things. “I don’t actually live in a television drama,” he says.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I am hanging up on you now, Ellie. I have a date to get ready for.”

He doesn’t have to be at Merlin’s until noon, but he turns up at the address Merlin texted him this morning at eleven and Merlin opens the door almost immediately. “I thought you would never get here,” he says, and makes an aborted move like he’s going to kiss Arthur before stopping to blush. Arthur can’t have that, so he steps into the doorway and kisses Merlin.

Lunch ends up horribly burned, much to Merlin’s embarrassment, but Arthur doesn’t much care. They’ll have plenty more dates if he has anything to say about it, and judging by the slightly mad grin Merlin is sporting by the time he has to excuse himself (with more kisses and a frantic search for a neckerchief to hide the love bite Arthur gave him), they’re on the same page.

He calls Elena on his walk home and tells her everything as she demands, and when they hang up he knows she’s going to talk to Morgana and probably Gwen and that Gwaine will torture the information out of Merlin at Ealdor and that they’ll never get privacy again as a result, but he’s surprisingly okay with it. He’s more than happy to have afternoons in the park with everyone and dinners at Ealdor with all of Merlin’s friends getting up periodically to take care of customers, as long as he gets Merlin to himself once in a while.

 _I’m glad the right person read my ad_ he texts Merlin as he gets to his flat, and thinks that Merlin will probably know what it means.


End file.
